


Sticky Summer Seats (Ryden/Rydan)

by 97mosquitoes



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: 1980s, Attempt at Humor, Bisexual Brendon Urie, Brendon Urie does whatever the fuck he wants, Character Death, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, HIV/AIDS, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I promise it's not some sad shit show, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Moving In Together, POV Ryan Ross, Pansexual Brendon Urie, Past Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie, Period-Typical Homophobia, Protective Ryan Ross, Ryan Ross being a loving and caring boyfriend, Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie Fluff, Sad Ryan Ross, Sassy Brendon Urie, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Use of the word faggot, a lot of research went into this, it says bisexual in the fic but that's bc it's the 1980s, it will be sad but hopefully it will be good, kind of, neither brendon nor ryan die calm down
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-10-03 11:09:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17282927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/97mosquitoes/pseuds/97mosquitoes
Summary: It's 1981, Dan Keyes and Ryan Ross have been living in Pensacola, Florida, for 6 months. Dan has gotten sick, Ryan doesn't want to accept that even something could be wrong with his boyfriend and takes to learning everything he can about common cold treatments. Because that's all it is, a short case of the flu, in the middle of summer... in Florida.This story is rooted in the HIV/AIDS crisis that was first noticed in the U.S. in 1981 that for the most point lasted until the late 1990s (however, it is still the 9th leading cause of death in the world, and many people are still diagnosed with it every year) and is LOOSELY based on true events. I've done a lot of research on this, and I've tried my best to make it as accurate as possible.More background in the notes.





	1. Chapter One: Disco Sucks

**Author's Note:**

> I HIGHLY RECOMMEND READING THE NOTES BEFORE STARTING THIS STORY, THANKS :)
> 
> This fic takes place in the middle of the HIV/AIDS crisis that started in 1981, first being noticed in the U.S. in Los Angeles and New York through strange cases of Pneumocystis carinii pneumonia (PCP), an extremely rare lung disease, and an unusually aggressive type of skin cancer called Kaposi’s Sarcoma. By December of that year there were 270 reported severe cases of immune deficiency among gay men and unfortunately, by the end of the year, 121 had already died. Then the discovery of immune deficiency cases begins progressing extremely rapidly, and is first called gay-related immune disease (GRID) because of its common observation in gay men, it is then later renamed to acquired immune deficiency (AIDS) after being consistently discovered in people who were not gay. However, because of the original name, GRID, a lot of biases were brought down on gay communities throughout the U.S. and on the disease itself which made it very hard for the HIV/AIDS crisis to be seen as something critical and serious because of homophobia. These biases led to a to lack of proper medical research and treatment and were probably the sole reason as to why so many people died and still die from AIDS. Nowadays, in the United States and other first world countries, it is much easier to receive treatment because of medical advances and the chances of dying from HIV/AIDS is at an all-time low which is incredible but this story focuses on the beginning days of the crisis and all of the hardships that a gay man faced after acquiring AIDS in the 1980s.
> 
> Shit, that was really long, but I think it's important background information and hopefully, it'll help you all understand the story more in depth.

It was 1981. He was driving on Interstate 10 in Pensacola. The car in front of him had a Darth Vader sticker under a plaque saying "Jesus is the Way." Ryan Ross rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “fucking Florida.”  
  
He takes a right off the turnpike and pulls onto the main drag. By the time he gets to the stoplight before Publix he’s lost in thought and isn’t paying attention to the light changing from red to green. An Oldsmobile honked from behind his Chevette, and he quickly steps on the gas and turns into the supermarket's parking lot. Ryan finds a space two rows away from the main entrance and gets out of his car, then briskly walks past some teenagers that are leaning up against a DeLorean. He had no idea how they could afford one of those, $25,000 was a lot of money. His car had cost only around $5,000, and he still had to take out a loan for it. Luckily, he was able to pay it off without any problems- but still, they were what- 16?  
  
_It probably belongs to one of their parents._  
  
He shakes his head and grabs a cart. 

\---

Ryan was pulling down nearly every cold and flu medicine in his sight from the shelves in the medicine aisle and was in the middle of reading the back of a bottle of DayCare from Vicks when a stranger interrupts him, "That's a lot of shit you've got there."  
  
He was wearing Levi brand jeans, a shirt that said "Disco Sucks," and holding a pack of some allergy medicine. “Trying to cure cancer?”  
  
_Attractive._  
  
"My boyfri-" Ryan's face went red.  
  
_Damnit, damnit, damnit, shit, fuck._ __  
  
Where he and Dan used to live, Los Angeles, it was slightly more acceptable to be gay than the national tolerance, kind of- but here. Here in the South, the (almost) Bible Belt? Ryan counted back how many hate crimes he had heard about in hushed whispers just within the first two months of living here. The stranger was staring at him and Ryan stared back, like a deer caught in some headlights, waiting for the other to start laying it on him or worse, he had no idea how he was going to explain the bruises to Dan without making him worry and take Dan’s focus off getting better.  
  
The stranger, probably sensing Ryan's complete and utter four-second breakdown, quickly jumped to reassure him, "No! God, it's okay. I'm not going to do anything… fuck." He scratched behind his head and gave Ryan a sheepish smile, "it would be quite hypocritical if I did."  
__  
_Gay?_  
  
Ryan let out a quiet sigh of relief.  
  
The stranger held out his hand, and Ryan took it.  
  
"Brendon Urie,” he said. “You’re lucky, it most likely won't be like this next time, there's hardly anything sort of a gay community in Pensacola, I'm pretty sure I'm one of the only faggots around here.”  
  
"So why do you stay?"  
  
The guy, Brendon, stands thoughtfully for a moment, “there are lots of cuties in Speedos and bikinis during spring break… and I also love the beach too much,” he laughed and held up his hands as if he were holding a sign, "Pensacola: The Best Beaches On Earth."  
  
_Bisexual._  
  
"Totally, much better than where I lived before." Ryan laughed with him and then cleared his throat, "but yeah, my boyfriend, he has a really bad cold but I'm not actually sure if it's a cold or not. It's been going on for a while."  
  
"Oh, well, I like using tea with ginger, honey, and lemon when I’ve got a cold but I’m in no way a doctor, so like, don’t listen to me at all.” Brendon pointed over to a counter in the center of the wall behind them. “The pharmacists could probably be able to prescribe something more official. They're pretty good here."  
  
An animated and sunshiny girl was standing behind the desk, waving at all the little kids who went by and handing out lollipops when she could. Ryan stared at her distractedly before responding, "...yeah. Yeah, thanks." He went to walk over there but stopped when Brendon called out.  
  
"Wait! What's your name. It's only fair you tell me yours because I told you mine." He pouted childishly.  
  
_Cute._  
  
Ryan laughed again, "You could be a serial killer for all I know."  
  
“Hey!” Brendon said, “that’s totally not fucking fair.”  
  
“Hmmm, I think it is. We’ve just met.”  
  
“Please?” Brendon batted his eyelashes.  
  
“Fine, but only because I’m adding to the gay population here. You might need to seek me out if there’s a revolt. Strength in numbers and all that shit.” Ryan explained. “My name’s Ryan Ross, my friends call me Ry.”  
  
“Okay.” Brendon smiled and started walking away, “I’ll see you around then, Ry.”  
  
_Ballsy._   
  
Ryan yells after him, "I didn't say we were friends!" 

\---

The bright and cheery pharmacist, Lindsey, couldn't figure out was wrong either. She asked Ryan who his doctor was which then led to him explaining how he and his roommate, Dan, the one who was sick, just moved here and didn't have one yet. It was kind of true; the real reason was that they were just broke and gay and were too busy working to even put in the energy to look for a doctor, even after being settled in for a good five months at least. Plus, Dan had only been sick for a little bit, and it was only a cold... in the middle of August, in 98-degree heat…  
  
Entirely plausible.  
  
Lindsey told Ryan the directions to a Dr. Salec's office up the street and said that his office hours were 8am-5pm, Monday through Friday, with breaks for lunch at 1:00. Ryan thanked her, went to the checkout, and awkwardly avoided eye contact with Doris, the cashier lady, because he just knew she was judging him while scanning all the medicine bottles. Then left and got back on the I-10 to go home to his partner. 

\---

There was coughing over a TV show when Ryan walked in through the front door. “Hey, babe,” Dan says weakly.  
  
Ryan frowns and walks to where Dan has bundled up on the couch. “How is it possible that you sound worse from when I left?” He says while checking Dan’s forehead.  
  
“It’s not that bad,” Dan replies.  
  
_It is that bad_ .  
  
Ryan ignores what his boyfriend said and goes straight to the kitchen to make some tea. After putting the kettle on the stove (they didn’t have a microwave, and Dan says it tastes better like this anyway) he pokes his head past the wall dividing the kitchen from the living room, there wasn’t that much space in their apartment, “I went to Publix.”  
  
“Yeah?” Dan says not looking away from the screen.  
  
“The pharmacist recommended a doctor, but I pulled off every fucking flu remedy from the medicine aisle so that should be a good enough substitute.” The kettle started whistling. Ryan took it off the heat and poured the water into the mug he got Dan for last Valentine's Day. He walked back out to the living room and set the mug down on the coffee table. “What are we watching?”  
  
“Mork and Mindy,” Dan grabbed his tea and took a sip. “Chamomille?”  
  
“Yeah, with ginger, honey, and lemon. Brendon said it would help with soothing your throat for a bit.”  
  
Dan took another sip, “The pharmacist?”  
  
Ryan nodded. “The pharmacist.” 

\---

Later that night while reading in bed Ryan felt Dan turn on his side to face him. He put his book down. “What’s up, babe? I thought you were sleeping.”  
  
“Listen, Ry,” Dan started. “I think its time to actually go to the doctor.”  
  
“What? It’s just a cold.”  
  
“See, you say that but it's been two weeks and I don’t think I’m getting any better, honey.”  
  
“But-” Ryan protested.  
  
“Ry,” Dan deadpanned. “I’ve got a fucking rash, we’ve gotta do something about this.”

 _Gross._  
  
“Fine, fine, fine. We’ll go, I’ll make an appointment for Thursday.”  
  
“Tomorrow, you mean. What if he doesn’t have any spaces?”  
  
“It’s fucking summer,” Ryan joked. “I hardly doubt he’s busy treating any cases of _influenza_ .”  
  
“Okay…” Dan singsonged, “but don’t say I didn’t tell you so if we don’t get in.”  
  
Ryan rolled his eyes and shut off his bedside light, “Goodnight, babe.”

  
He lies awake in the dark for a few moments, Ryan knew that it was a good idea to go to a doctor and he wants Dan to get better but, going to the doctor’s means it’s real. He rolls into Dan’s chest and wraps an arm around his partner. Something is making his boyfriend sick and what if it’s not just the flu? 

\---

“Hi, I’d like to make an appointment for today?”  
  
“Sorry, but we don’t have any more spots available for today, will next Monday work?  
  
“Of course,” Ryan said sweetly.  
  
He placed the phone back on its wall mount and refused to look at Dan, who was laughing so hard he had set off his own coughing fit. Ryan went back to the kitchen to make a sandwich and yelled at his boyfriend, “I hope you choke on your tea.”


	2. Chapter Two: Nose Zinc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon reads the New York Times. Introduction of Jon Walker and Dallon Weekes (and a mention of Spencer Smith).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switched POV to Brendon. I've also done so more research and have officially set up a timeline for this fic- which I probably should've done before I posted the first chapter but whatever. Chapter one takes place on Wednesday, July 1st, 1981. I've also researched some 80s slang so definitely look forward to the occasional "tubular!" here and there. I've also cited the first major news coverage of the AIDS outbreak from the New York Times, July 3rd, 1981. The link to the article is here: https://www.nytimes.com/1981/07/03/us/rare-cancer-seen-in-41-homosexuals.html and I highly recommend reading it before starting this chapter as it will give a lot of context for one of the conversations.

Brendon breathed in the salty sea breeze that wafted through the beachside cafe. In his hand’s were a copy of July 3rd’s New York Times and on the table in front of him was a cup of black coffee with two sugars. He could feel an excitement in the air as the town of Pensacola began prepping for tomorrow’s celebrations and fireworks. Their mayor had promised it’d be the biggest display in the Panhandle and everyone was looking forward to it. Brendon was waiting for his friend Jon Walker to arrive, they usually had coffee every Friday morning before Jon, who was a nurse at the local hospital, went to work. Brendon checked his watch, he had gotten to the cafe a little early this morning but that was fine, he had a newspaper to keep him busy. As Brendon’s eyes skim the pages a headline from one of the Time’s articles catches his attention, it reads “RARE CANCER FOUND IN 41 HOMOSEXUALS.”

 

“‘Outbreak occurs among men in New York and California- 8 died inside 2 years’ by Lawrence K. Altman.” Brendon reads aloud, shocked.

 

“Huh?” Jon pulls out the chair on the other side of the table. Brendon must have been too distracted by the article to see him when he arrived.

 

“‘Doctors in New York and California have diagnosed among homosexual men 41 cases of a rare and often rapidly fatal form of cancer. Eight of the victims died less than 24 months after the diagnosis was made’,” Brendon continues reading the article to Jon. He finally looks up at his friend. “Have you heard anything about this down at the hospital?”

 

Jon shakes his head, “No, nothing. Here, let me see.” He takes the newspaper from Brendon’s hands. “It says that the men were diagnosed with cancer called Kaposi's Sarcoma. Like they said its rare, we read about it in med school but I’ve never actually seen a case of it in the hospital. Usually, it takes years to develop, I’m talking like a decade here but they’re reporting that these new cases show it happening faster than that. I mean, 24 months? That’s crazy.” Jon explains.

 

“Fuck,” Brendon says. “What are the symptoms?”

 

“I was taught that this cancer spreads from the legs up and it looks like spots but the author said that it's showing up in random places on the body and is more prominent than previous diagnoses. The spots don’t itch though, some people even mistake them as bruises because they can turn kind of brown. Why are you so stressed out about this?”

 

“You fucking know why! ‘Rare cancer found in 41 homosexuals’- hmmm, I wonder which person that could possibly affect at this table?” Brendon asks incredulously, “Me! That’s who! I’m a homo!!”

 

Jon rolls his eyes, “take a chill pill. They’ve only found cases of it in New York and California, do you live in either of those places?”

 

“Well-”

 

“No. You don’t, and besides, they’re saying that its most likely being sexually transmitted. So you, my friend, have nothing to worry about.” Jon pats Brendon’s arm and smiles.

 

“Hey! I get laid- in fact, way more than you do. I’m a lifeguard! That’s like an instant turn on for most people.” Brendon argues.

 

“Whatever, just make sure you use more condoms.”

 

“Yeah, sure can I borrow some of yours? I’m all out. Or wait, it's probably better not to- it's not safe to use ones that are expired…” Brendon laughs. 

 

Jon’s mouth drops, “you little shit- fuck you, man.”

 

“Alright, alright. You’ve got places to be and I,” Bredon stands up from the table and grabs his longboard that had been resting against his chair. “I’ve gotta bounce if I want to buy more condoms before I’m set to be on stand.”

 

“Ugh, just get out of here, asshole.” Jon scoffs.

 

Brendon blows his friend a kiss. “Later, nerd.”

 

“Later.”

 

\---

 

Brendon rides his longboard to his lifeguard station on the infamous Pensacola Beach and begins setting up for the day. Dallon Weekes, a beanpole of a guy, arrives a little bit later. Brendon asks him if he can put tanning oil on his back. 

 

“You know the F.D.A says tanning isn’t good for you,” Dallon complains while he rubs the oil in.

 

“Okay,” Brendon says, completely ignoring him and applying more of the tanning oil on his chest. When he turns around he sees that Dallon has made the thickest layer of zinc that he possibly could put on his nose. “Be careful, you might blind someone with how white your nose looks.”

 

“Well, you can eat my fucking shorts because at least I won’t get skin cancer like you.” Dallon states.

 

Brendon kind of freezes at the word cancer, the New York Time’s morning article quickly runs through his mind. He brushes it off before the dweeb next to him notices. “Dude, what’s your damage? You usually don’t have a stick this far up your ass until lunch.”

 

“Sorry man, I woke up late and had to book it if I wanted to make it in time. I ended up skipping breakfast.” 

 

“I’ll get you a bagel on my break, I get off at 9:00. Can you wait two hours?”

 

“Yes, oh my god, you’re totally a lifesaver, really.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

 

\---

 

Guarding that morning wasn’t a total bust, mostly just people taking early morning strolls and a few experienced swimmers exercising a couple of yards from the shore. As promised, Brendon took his break at 9:00 when Spencer Smith, another lifeguard, showed up and he skated to get Dallon a bagel from Dunkin’ Donuts. They were all out so he got him a blueberry muffin instead, which in Brendon’s humble opinion, was a million times better than some plain ass bagel.

 

“Where’s my bagel?” Dallon asked when Brendon threw him the brown paper bag the Dunkin’ employee handed him the muffin it.

 

“They were out, sorry dude.”

 

“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

 

“Anytime, Dallon,” Brendon said.

 

Brendon didn’t hate Dallon, but he didn’t like him either. They had a kind of weird relationship, Dallon was older than Brendon by six years but he still kind of acts like someone Brendon’s age- which is what led Brendon to make the mistake of sleeping with him last summer at the annual end of season staff party. The awkwardness that lingers between them is mostly because Dallon refuses to acknowledge it even happened and Brendon doesn’t care enough to resolve the issue with the 29-year-old. Apparently, it was Dallon’s first gay experience ever (shocker) and Brendon guesses that he can’t get over it- this doesn’t surprise Brendon- he was a  _ wicked  _ good lay.

\---

Once Brendon’s shift ended at 1:30, he skated to a Chick-fil-a for lunch because even though they hated fags the had a gnarly chicken sandwich and some damn good lemonade. His meal, as expected, was delicious- what wasn’t expected was seeing that twink from Publix again and what was even more unexpected was that the twink seemed to be walking towards Brendon’s booth. 

 

 _Think Brendon, what the hell was his name._ _It was short and he yelled at you for something after he told you. Come on, come on, come on._ Brendon couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t remember the twink’s name after such an unforgettable encounter but somehow it had happened and _fuck!_

 

“Hey, Brendon, right?” The twink asked.

 

“Yep, that’s my name! Don’t wear it out,” Brendon cringed.  _ Spazz. _

 

“Okay… uh. It’s Ryan, from Publix. You asked me if I was curing cancer and then told me a really good tea recipe for colds. That worked, by the way.”  _ Ryan! The twink’s name is Ryan. _

 

“Of course it worked, Ry. My mom’s never wrong.” Brendon smiled. “Take a seat!”

 

Ryan did.

 

“So, is your boyfriend-”

 

“Shhhhhh!” Ryan hushed. “Don’t say that in here, we’ll get kicked out.”

 

Brendon rolled his eyes, “You don’t have to be such a closet queen, you know. We’re sitting in the back. No one can hear us anyway.” 

 

Ryan gave him a dirty look.  _ Cute. _

 

“Fine, is your roommate feeling better then?”

 

“Kind of, we have an appointment to see a doctor on the 6th,” Ryan said.

 

Brendon raised an eyebrow. “Oh shit, its that serious, huh?”

 

Ryan shakes his head. “I don’t know, dude. Dan insisted we make an appointment, he says he’s got a rash on the side of his ribs that he wants to get checked out and ultimately it's his decision.”

 

For a second time that day, the Time’s article runs across his mind.  _ It couldn’t be that could it? No way, they’re in Pensacola, Florida. Not New York and not California.  _ “Yeah,” Brendon nodded.

 

“Like, I know its good for us to go to a doctor to make sure everything’s okay,” Ryan continues, “but then that makes it real, you know? I don’t want like anything to go wrong. We just started over. This move was supposed to be really good for us.”

 

“Yeah, I totally get that.” Brendon agrees.

 

“Oh shit, sorry. I don’t mean to be, like, emotionally dumping on you or anything.”

 

“No, it’s cool. You said you guys moved?” Brendon pushes the conversation forward.  _ Jesus, this twink looks like he really fucking needs someone to talk to. _

 

“Yeah, a few months ago Los Angeles.”

 

Brendon nearly chokes on his lemonade. “LA? How fun.”  _ Don’t freak him out, dipshit! You have no idea if its what the Times was talking about or not!  _

 

“Eh, not really. Its kind of chaotic, Dan and I both wanted a change. Pensacola seemed like the perfect place. He needed this more than anything I think.”

 

“I could probably understand that. I’m from just outside of Las Vegas but that’s not really a big city for anyone growing up Morman or under 21.”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You grew up in Las Vegas? I grew up in Las Vegas, too.”

 

“No way!”

“And you grew up Morman?” Ryan laughed.

 

“Yeah,” Brendon confirmed.

 

“How the fuck did a little Morman boy from Las Vegas turn into such a beach bitch?”

 

“That is a story for a different time.”

 

“I hope you tell me that story one day then,” Ryan said.  _ Was that flirting? Was the twink who has a boyfriend flirting with me? _

 

“Uh, yeah. Sure, I will.” He smiled.

 

Ryan got up to leave, “Listen, I’ve gotta motor, I was picking up lunch for Dan and me when I saw you.”

 

“Oh yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you…”

 

“No, it's fine.” Ryan reassured, “um, hey are you going to the fireworks on the beach tomorrow night?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”  _ Technically, he’d be working but it still meant he’d be at the beach. _

 

“Okay, awesome. Maybe I’ll see you there if Dan is feeling up to it.” Ryan smiled and waved, “See ya.”

 

“See ya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, I've been traveling and I didn't want to take my computer with me. :)
> 
> Here are some translations for the 80s slang I've used! (most of these are from Wikipedia by the way)
> 
> To bounce: to go somewhere, "got to go!"  
> Eat my shorts: basically, the clean version of eat my ass  
> Dweeb: nerd  
> What's your damage? : what's your problem?  
> Wicked: really good, cool, awesome  
> Spazz: weirdo, a weird person  
> Closet Queen: gay who hides his homosexuality  
> Beach Queen: gay who frequents beaches and resoles for sexual encounters  
> To motor: to go somewhere, "got to go!"


	3. Chapter Three: Alcohol Tolerance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan and Dan have a sweet little moment over dinner and Brendon finally meets the infamous boyfr- I mean roommate!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, this was a struggle for me to write so that's why it took so long to post but! It's longer than the previous two chapters. :)

“Babe,” Ryan calls from the bedroom.

“Yeah,” Dan responds from the couch.

“Do you want to go see the fireworks show on the beach?”

“Uh…” Dan sounds hesitant.

“Come on, hon, it’ll be awesome!” Ryan tries. “We haven’t really done anything fun lately.”

Dan appears in the doorway, “yeah, sure. I’ve been dying to get out of the house.”

Ryan smiles, “Great! It starts at 9:00.”

“Let’s go to dinner before,” Dan says, “we’ll make it a date night.”

“OOooh” Ryan coos. “Daniel, how exciting! What should I wear?”

“Something nice.” Dan winks.

“Oh yeah, babe? Like what?” 

Dan reaches into their shared dresser and pulls out the pair of silky, red boxer briefs that he had gotten Ryan for last Valentine’s Day. “Like this.”

“Dan!” Ryan exclaims. His boyfriend giggles and waves the fabric in a cowboy like fashion over his head. Ryan jumps up and snatches the pair out of Dan’s hands and shoos him out of the room, “Get!” 

Dan chuckles and retreats back to the living room to watch television. Once Ryan is completely sure his boyfriend is preoccupied watching Days of Our Lives, or something like that, he packs a bag with picnic blankets, two extra sweaters and some waters that he grabbed from the kitchen earlier today, then he undresses and slips the pair of underwear on. _For later tonight._

\--

Dan ends up picking a nicer, newer restaurant along the bayfront that’s a little bit of their regular price range. Ryan is surprised by the choice, “Dan,” he whispers while they walk in through the front area. “We can’t afford this…” 

“Shh, I’ve been saving up for something special. It’s fine,” Dan reassures him.

The hosts sits them outside on the back patio and Ryan smiles at the sound of the waves lapping at the sand. The sun is beginning to set and Dan takes Ryan’s hand from underneath table. It was really quite romantic.  

“I just want to say,” Dan begins, “thank you for taking care of me these past few months.”

“Oh,” Ryan says.

“I know it's been hard on you and that me getting sick wasn’t our perfect start to our new life here, but as soon as I get better, everything will be fine. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ryan smiles.

“And it’ll be just like we imagined, alright?”

Ryan nods his head, a little teary eyed.

“I love you,” Dan says.

“I love you too,” Ryan says back, still getting that same rush that he got every time he said it. Just like the very first time they each said it to each other on their one year anniversary looking out over the Empire State building’s balcony.

Dan orders the shrimp scampi and Ryan gets the chicken parmesan after the waiter’s recommendation. Dan also orders a cheap Pinot Noir, they weren’t some rich 65-year-old yuppies who lived in Napa Valley and most wine tastes the same to Ryan so he didn’t really care anyway.

By the time dinner is over, Dan has had four glasses and is stumbling a little as they walk out of the restaurant but that’s okay, a tipsy Dan makes for very interesting conversation. He’s leaning on Ryan a bit more then what is appropriate for the public as the pair walk towards the waterfront but Ryan brushes the worry off with a chuckle, “I hope you sober up some before we reach the beach.”

“Yeah,” Dan giggles. “Maybe we should stop for a coffee or whatever.”  He waves his hand in the general direction of a cafe that the couple passes by and the says only slurring slightly, “but I’m fine though. Really.”

“Alright,” Ryan looks thoroughly amused at his boyfriend’s actions, “hopefully the walk will get your head screwed on a bit more before we get there. Don’t want to embarrass yourself if we end up running into anyone.”  _ Anyone meaning Brendon. _

“Ryan, honey, nothing about me is straight!” Dan exclaims loudly and laughs at his own joke. “And besides, who would we run into? We don’t have any friends here, silly.”

“Sure we do!” Ryan protests, “Well, I mean I do, kind of… Do you remember Brendon? The guy I met at Publix?”

“Hmmm… sort of.”

“I saw him at Chick-fil-a yesterday while getting lunch. We had a pretty good conversation.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s queer too.”

Dan narrows his eyes, “ Should I be jealous?”

“No! Of course not!” Ryan lightly smacks his shoulder.

“I’m just kidding, babe.” Dan kisses Ryan’s cheek and smiles, “By the way, how did you manage to find  _ probably _ the only other fag in the entire fucking city in one outing?”

“I have a magnet.” Ryan grins and states matter-of-factly.

\--

Dan is still having somewhat of a hard time walking by the time the couple reaches their destination and is now complaining about seeing black spots in his vision. Ryan frowns, normally Dan doesn’t get this drunk off of 4 glasses of wine.  _ His tolerance must have gone down because he’s sick.  _

After finding a good spot on the sand, Ryan quickly lays out the checkered blanket he brought with him in his tote bag and has Dan sit down on top of it. He also takes out one of the water bottles and sweaters and tosses them to his boyfriend before bringing out his own. Ryan’s sweater is blue and it's probably a little overkill for the temperature being a nice 70 degrees but he knew that it would get chilly as the night progresses and as the breeze blows over them. Dan’s sweater is olive green and is currently stuck over his face because he had drunkenly tried to stick the top of his head through the left armhole. Ryan, being the amazing boyfriend that he is, fondly watches Dan struggle for a few more moments before moving to help tug the fabric to where it needs to be. 

Dan beams at Ryan, cheeks pink from the alcohol and hair messy from the confusion with the sweater. Ryan smooths the blond strands that are out of place back with his hand. “Thanks, babe,” Dan whispers and leans forward to sneak a kiss to the corner of the brunette's mouth. He then promptly falls back onto the sand.

Ryan blushes and lies down on the picnic blanket as well. There are some stars already visible in the light of dusk and Ryan can pick out a few constellations and key points of the night sky like the Big Dipper, Polaris, and Mars. A second of peace washes over him and Ryan shuts his eyes, he can hear the lapping of the waves on the sand, the chattering of excited families waiting for the fireworks, and Dan’s breathing beside him. For an instant everything is fine- then it’s ruined by a little kid kicking sand into his face while playing tag with her friends.

“Hey!” A familiar voice shouts. “I told you guys to be careful! There are way too many people here to be running around like that!” 

Ryan cracks one eye open, “Brendon?”

The other man whips around at the mention of his name. He’s wearing the standard issued red trunks that ended around his mid-thigh. There’s a black fanny pack around his hips with ‘GUARD’ printed in white across the front and a matching black whistle around his neck. Ryan sits up.

“Ryan?”

“I- I didn’t know you were a lifeguard.”

“You never asked,” Brendon smirked.

“That is… that is true.”

Dan looks over at the new arrival, “Who’s this?”

“Oh, sorry! Let me uh, let me introduce you guys.” Ryan gestures quickly across his body to the other two men. “Dan, Brendon. Brendon, Dan.”

“Oh, so you’re the pharmacist!” Dan says and reaches out his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things I hope!” Brendon takes Dan’s hand and then mouths secretly to Ryan, “pharmacist?”

Ryan waves it off and mouths back, “later.”

Dan smiles between the two of them, “Would you like to join us?”

“Um, yeah- yeah!” Brendon says. “My shift is over in…” he checks his watch, “15 minutes? Can you wait until then?”

Ryan speaks up, “of course. We’ll be here.”

It takes Brendon, 30 minutes to return and he's swapped his work uniform out for a pair of straight-legged Levi 501’s, a Queen shirt, and green Adidas campuses. The shoes seemed to miraculously repel the sand around them.  _ He looks good. _

Ryan moves closer to Dan on the blanket and pats the newly opened space beside him.

Brendon smiles and sits down next to Ryan. “The fireworks should be starting around 9:30, I checked with the Coast Guard this morning.”

“You have an in with the Coast Guard?” Dan asked.

“No, I’m just joking.” Brendon replied, “It was the dolphins who told me.”

Ryan snickers. Dan frowns.

“The newspaper this morning said 9:45 and I’m sorry to say, Brendon, but I trust the journalists more than your dolphin friends,” Ryan adds.

Brendon shrugs, “that’s okay. My dolphin friends are pretty chill people, they’re like the stoners of the sea.”

That gets a laugh from everyone.

\--

The conversation ebbs and flows during the hour wait for the fireworks show, Ryan is happy to see Dan and Brendon mostly getting along,  _ however _ , he did notice the changes in both man’s demeanor when either one of them said something that slightly irked the other. 

 

_ They’ll be more friendly with each other later on. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, because of who I am as a person, you really shouldn't expect an update more than once a month honestly. I really do want to continue this story and finish it- so don't worry about me potentially abandoning it! But motivation is really hard for me to find, even for things I'm passionate about so please be patient :'). That being said, a few things that do motivate are comments and kudos, I really appreciate every one I get!! Thank you, guys! Another thing that fuels the brain train is having someone supporting me and holding me accountable so I'm thinking about finding a beta? If you're interested in being my beta or know someone who might be interested, please message me!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it and all comments/kudos are greatly appreciated!


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